The Clown Wars
by xXCHAZYWOOXx
Summary: Rose? Gone.   Martha? Gone.   Donna? Gone.   He is alone. The tardis is like his prison, and he is forced to continue existing. A new adventure may prove to be the only thing to make him see the other sides of himself. That maybe, he is not alone.
1. Beginings

**I've been working hard on this story, and what do I have to show for it? Not a single review. If you guys like it, review. if you absolutley hate it, review. Give me something so i'm not working on this hoping that maybe if I add another chapter someone will have the decency to write a review.**

**Now that I'm done ranting, read. **

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There was something about the loneliness of the tardis that always got to him. It was so quiet. Everything went at a pace so slow that a snail could beat in its sleep. Nothing moved everything still as if it was dead. Noiseless, soundless, still. You'd think a man traveling around the universe, striding across its land as if he owned it wouldn't mind a quiet night alone. No. In fact he did mind it. He didn't just disapprove of it he loathed it. When finally alone he roasted in the silence. Reprehended in its clutches and held responsible for its continuance.

He just couldn't accept it. He's seen the universe begin, and he has been to its end. There was always life, everything moved forward; always alive. And he was stuck alone. Bound to his tardis and the life of danger. Destruction filling in the footsteps he leaves as he walks on the fragile ground. And when everything ended, there was only silence. The iron curtain of his tardis, like his voice was ripped from him, forced to cry out and echo back in his own ears.

He should have been driven to madness. Completely deranged by the stillness, and yet he was untouched by its effect. Strong willed, balanced, and completely absolutely sane. Then again, maybe he wasn't. Maybe his full deck had lost its kings and queens and he was left with an imitation of them. Maybe his jokers were leading his kingdom. Now that was insane. Those were only theories though. It could just be the simple loneliness of the quiet room. He could just not like being alone. He was isolated from everyone else in his little blue box. The doors always shut tight and locked like a prison cell. The emptiness and irritation of it all. He had the tardis, but the tardis never seemed to respond to his touch other then being commanded by the pull of a lever. Never the sound of his voice or the stroke of his hand. It was alive, but not enough. It was still a cold machine.

The Doctor looked at his tardis. He had those keen eyes of his, vigilant and percipient. But they were old, old eyes. On the bridge of his nose rest his glasses. He had no need for them; they just made him look clever. Though there was no one now to look at them and think about how intelligent he was. Right now they were there to remind him that he was clever, and he was sane. He was tall with broad shoulders that showed how much he had been through. Always seeming like he was slouching and not showing his full height with his shoulders slumped heavily. His body was thin and long. He had muscles but they weren't much toned. All in all, he looked like a stereotypical geek. A nerd who knows everything about anything.

Now The Doctor wasn't exactly ugly. In fact he was quiet handsome. Where ever he went he could turn heads if he tried. He had a short jaw that fitted under his thin pink lips. Above his lips was a long nose. And then there were his eyes. Large and brown, full of life and twinkling with innocence. But if you looked closely they weren't the eyes that could fit his body. They were the eyes of a man who had seen death, over and over again. Maybe even causing a few. One hardened by war and destruction. One left with nothing and deafened by loneliness. His eyebrows were always drawn close to them, shielding them. Wild and angry, and yet soft and sad. His hair was different. You couldn't call it a name because it was one no one had seen before. It was crazy and eccentric and yet perfectly combed and content. It was different.

He stands up, the form of his figure rising above the ground tall and proud. His eyes twinkled as he mind churned with ideas like it always used to do. He puts his hands in his pockets and makes his way to the door. Slow and steady, there was no need for him to run. He takes hold of his tardis door and opens it to the fields of some farm. The air reeked of the 1800's. In his lifetime he's seen almost every movie made by humans. Most of them portrayed the 1800's as a black and white town in England, being rained upon as you stridden up and down the dull colored streets. But here it was, 1800 and beautifully green and blue. He closes the door again and makes his way back to the controls. His fingers dash across them in a wild frenzy, pulling this, pushing that. The tardis roaring to life in response to his touch. He grins as he pulls down on the last lever.

He opens the door again, this time the future was outside his blue box. A cleaner and fresher time. A future that bears no mark of war, no feeling of hate, or segregation all because of him. He breathed in the air and tasted the beauty of the world that he had helped to create. For a moment he just stands their, engrossed in the feeling and then he steps back inside. All is well.

"Bleep." His Tardis had spoken. Quickly, without a moment to waste, he springs from his relaxed state and into the trench coat of a new adventurous demeanor. At the controls his fingers dash around in a mad fit of bringing order out of a new found problem. This future was calling out to his tardis. It had seemed that all was not as well as he had thought previously.

A single red crack in the fabric of time was becoming a gap. Something had happened that had never happened before and never was supposed to. His mighty space ship let out it signature whine as it removed itself from where it stood. As it reappeared the doctor headed out.

He pulled his trench coat around him closer. He watched the snow fall from the sky in quarter sized clumps and hitting the ground with softness. Around him a blanket of the whiteness covered the town. _Finally real snow_. He stuck out his tongue for a moment to enjoy this scarce event and swallowed the frozen water.

"Bleck," he spat.

He continued on the narrow strip of road until he had found where his tardis originally had locked onto. It looked much different then the buildings that had surrounded it. They were small cozy homes. Some were tall apartments and others were small businesses. Nothing as large as this building. It looked over 600 feet wide and 1000 feet long with a good height of 11 stories. It seemed from his position to be entirely made out of sturdy concrete and hard cold metal. The building itself was enough to tell you to leave it be, but to aid in its message a large black fence with posters plastered all on it saying 'leave. Warning barb wire. No trespassing.'

Like he's ever listened to a warning before…

He took up the chance of adventure like any hero would. His heart beat faster and adrenaline rushed through his alien veins. He had lost everything in the few hundred years of being on this planet, but that would not stop him. He was determined to keep moving on.

He looked back at his time machine. It sat on the street corner, being washed by the circular orange glow of the tall street light. It was in plain sight. If the people who had sent that signal to him were not friendly then leaving the most powerful machine in the universe in plain sight wouldn't be such a great idea. He would have to move it.

That was simply the first thing to do. He got into his tardis and moved it under a bridge. It lead over a large gap in the grown, caused by an alien invasion a few months back. No one would remember it though, since in terms of time it never happened. He climbed out of the hole, being careful not to harm his signature trench coat. He would have to look presentable if they were nice aliens, or people.

He made his way down the streets back over the massive building. He took a long look at the barb wire. It could be electric. He picked up a leaf and moved over to the fence. Lightly he let it graze the side of the wire as it fell to the ground. No sparks, no burns, no electricity. All he needed was to cut it. But, what would he use?

He pulls out his sonic screwdriver and allows himself a cheerful witty grin. He turns it on and hears the sound of its hum as it goes to work. The small device melts a good section of the wire. Noiselessly, he advances.


	2. Ancient times

The winter brisk air became itself an obstacle to be reckoned with. It burned his lungs causing his breathing to come in long slow gasps through his nose. As he neared the building the frosty air burned at his fingertips, turning them a dark shade of red. He could feel the pricks of pain in his cheeks as the breeze blew around him. His teeth chattered as his feet scratched against the cracked ground.

This building was affecting the weather drastically; ripping the warmth from the air. He was only a few meters away when he peeked through the foggy glass of the window. On the other side were two shapes. One was seated and bowing its head whiles the larger leaner one stood at attention by its side. Neither moved as the doctor laid his hand upon the glass.

He moved over to the door and knocked. A moment passed before he heard the dull sound of footsteps. The clattering of metal filled his ears as several locks were being undone. Finally the large stone door gave a weak creak and opened. On the flip side was a girl. Her skin was darkly pigmented and her long black hair was pulled tightly in a bun behind her head. She was short compared to the long slim form of the doctor, but she made up for her lack of height in beauty. When she began to speak the doctor's alerts went on high.

"Good evening' sir." She said emotionless and as stone cold as the air. He let his eyes trail behind her into the dark noiseless room. It was furnished like an old time castle. Metal soldiers hung against the walls, their weapons drawn in a respectful manner. A long ancient red carpet was draped across the floor with a decent amount of dust fading its warming color.

"Yes, a rather cold one it seems." He spoke cheerfully and with lively spirits. Her demeanor remained as shadowy as the knights in the shinning armor behind her.

"Come in." She demanded.

He obeyed and entered the medieval based building. He continued running his eyes around the place. The air was still cold and harsh but it allowed more comfort than that of outside. He rubbed his hands together and blew into them warming the frozen digits.

There was a large stone fireplace in what seemed like an ancient lobby. Two of the soldiers guarded it with thick long axes, beautifully carved in what looked like Italian décor. The fireplace was lit, but the heat coming from it was missing. There were two couches, also sprinkled in dust as if they were never used.

The ceiling rose high above the doctor's head and the top was also carved as if this was some castle. Over ten chandeliers hung from it. They were lit and sparkling, but the warmth from them was nowhere to be found.

"What a cozy place you have here." His words were weighted with sarcasm.

"The master believes so." Alright, so she was a housekeeper. Still something was very curious about her behavior, how she seemed to be empty and working like some zombie.

He turned to face her after observing his surroundings but he was greeted with the stone door. She was gone. He looked around, half expecting her to have walked off, or be beckoning him from the doorway. The eeriness of the room was by no means bringing comfort to him. He picked a random corridor and began walking down it. It repeated the ancient way of the lobby; a long dusty carpet, some chandeliers, shiny metal soldiers with silver sharp weapons, and candles offering no warmth.

A good ten minutes passed before he heard something; clattering of metal and the sharp screeching of machinery. He followed the sound and was led to a door with light spilling out from under it. He bent down to his knees and peered through the large key hole.

"Well, well, well, what do we have here?" He muttered.

Inside the room was something that broke apart the medieval scene. The room was washed in smoke; yellows and oranges clung together in the fog creating thick heavy shades of light. The clanking metal was a large powerful machine that screeched and hollered as it was at work. The room seemed bigger than what was available to his sight. He slowly stood up and continued his march down the corridor.

He walked a while on, the air becoming warmer and warmer as he went. The heat of the air did nothing to calm the rising chill clawing at the base of his spine and bouncing around the barriers of his chest. Both of his hearts quickened their pace as if they knew that danger was biting at his heels. He noticed another sound. This one was peaceful and soft.


	3. the sleeping man

The sleeping man

Snoring. It only took the doctor a moment to register the soft calm sound. The warm room might contain the shapes he had observed earlier. The one who bowed its head was sound asleep while the other seemed to guard it. The doctor knew better then to risk an unnecessary quarrel with these things. The machinery a while back was not human made and it also did not seem like they were friendly either. These beings were intelligent, and what it seems; emotionless. He stepped back from the heated door and looked around.

A flicker of light was escaping the iron bars of a small venting system. The doctor crouched down upon his knees and looked inside. As he suspected the two shapes were there. The one sleeping appeared to be an elderly man with wrinkled old eyes and a small scruffy beard clinging to his chin. The one guarding him was a young man in a white suit. His bright blonde hair swayed around his neck as his eyes were fixated forward. He seemed as stone cold as the house keeper. The room was well furnished. A fireplace was across from the old man. It was massive and raised high above the knights' head as they stood t its base. Their metal shined brilliantly in the dull room. This time, he could feel the warmth of the room.

It wasn't just warm, it was **hot.** The temperature was rising, and the doctor could feel the sweat gathering in beads above his brow. It wasn't like the heat could bother him, since his race could survive much hotter, but it was the fact that there was no fire in the fireplace. So where was the heat coming from?

"If you wish to speak to me Doctor," the doctor turned quickly to find the old man behind him, his body hunched over a cane and a gentle smile on his lips, "Snooping around my home is not the way to do it."

"Yes well, it did not seem the friendliest of places." He motioned with his eyes to a large knight with a menacing ax tightly in its grip.

The old man let out a laugh and leaned against the windowsill, "But you won't be bothered by people who have no business here when you live in a place like this."

He placed his cane at his feet, his hands folded over the handle.

"I trust you did not come here to discuss the old furniture of my humble home."

"Why did you signal me?

"I'm dieing doctor."

"Everything dies; I don't see how that has any connection with me."

"You don't. You regenerate."

The doctor's voice caught in his throat. He was not expecting that.

"Who are you? How do you know about my regeneration?"

"Now Doctor, in chess do you ever tell your opponent your next move?"

He opened his mouth to reply but a gust of cold air seized his breath. The old man was gone.

The minute the presence of the sleeping man was absent the frost of the air attacked the walls; crackling as it spread around in its icy touch. The doctor shivered and wrapped his trench coat closer.

"I hate chess," he muttered through clattering teeth. The building grew quiet with the exception of the distant sound of machinery hard at work. The doctor's thoughts were mixed; some of him was begging to know why the man wanted him. Still most of him wanted nothing more then to escape. Something was not right, if not something-everything. He was the only one with the ability to end it-whatever it was, and god damn him if he turned a blind eye!

He couldn't take the cold air. He was sure it was attempting to tear off his numb toes. He rubbed his palms furiously together as he made his way up the corridor. It seemed that ever step he took the room dropped in temperature. The length of the wall crinkled and popped with settling ice almost sounding like a dehydrated cackle. It ran up the iron wall, and spread across the ceiling surrounding the doctor; like he was trapped pushing him forward, daring him to fight it.

The color was running from his face. If it continued, he would surely be frozen dead where he stood. In this realization he turned his numb body and continued walking back to where he had first met the cold man. The temperature rose as he got closer to the room. His body relinquished it's shivering state and his toes wiggled inside his shoes. He hurried his pace; eager for more heat. The room where the sleeping man was in is where the incredible warmth came from. He ripped the door open, stepped inside, and made sure to shut the door heavily behind him.

He felt strong hands wrap around his shoulders. He gasped and roach back to get the hands off, but the iron grip only tightened. As they got tighter his head began to spin. His knees gave out under his weight, his body went roughly down. He was still aware of his surroundings but his body was completely numb, paralyzed. He moved his eyes to his attacker. The young man in a bright white suit with his blonde hair stood above him. He struggled to move but he was sure he still laid still on the ground. The man stayed above him, but his eyes never looked at the Doctor. The doctor watched where the man looked, waiting for him to do something, waiting for him to attack. He felt his heart pounding in his ears and his body screaming at him to run. But he couldn't. He laid still at this beings feet, completely vulnerable; for the first time in a long time. He heard another person enter the room. There was a quick dash between both steps and the thud of a blunt metal object-a cane.

"Good job Jason," an old shaky voice said.

His heart skipped into his throat. The ground next to him got hotter as the breath of his captor grazed against his ear.

"Thank you," it said, "for answering my call."

A feeling of sinking filled him as cold metal made contact with his skull. He was sure that it caused some amount of head trauma. He drifted now, collected in his own mind; waiting to open his eyes.


	4. scared familiar eyes

Machinery was the first thing he heard; grinding metal all around him; the wheeze of air being shot out of a pipe. Yelling. He heard someone screaming-_no not screaming. Commanding. But commanding what? _ Everything was mixed, the words, the machinery-blurred together to make vague incomprehensible sounds. It hurts his head, no it was already hurting; burning even. It felt ripped open. He was sure he could feel dried blood clinging to his neck. He was injured, in some place with thousands of machines, and a person commanding._ Great._

He was getting movement back in his fingers. Soon enough his mind would clear. He kept his eyes closed; not knowing what would happen if he opened them-what he would see. He slowly tried to lift his body off of whatever it laid upon. Tightening around his chest and abdomen told him that he was strapped down. That allowed him the courage to open his eyes. A bright light shown directly into his pupils which caused him to groan and shut them tight. He slowly opened them again.

"What-what happened?" He stuttered. He bit his lip and tried not to move his throbbing head.

"Well, that would have been Jason. It seems you startled him." **That voice-**the sleeping man, the man in white, being paralyzed, being unconscious. It was all coming back.

"Who are you?" he tried to sound demanding, but dehydration caused his voice to be harsh and quiet.

"Life. I want life." _What does he mean life? What does this have to do with me?_

"I don't understand." He said bluntly. It was probably the smartest way of saying, 'I might be extremely clever but in a spur of a moment I can be as clueless as a guinea pig.'

"I know you don't."

"Then explain," He was getting tired of this game.

The footsteps sounded as the man moved closer. The doctor could almost hear that dreadfully deceiving smile peaking through the snowy beard. He felt long fingers in his hair. He looked up to see the old man grinning above him. A harsh feeling of danger ripped open the doctor's chest. He was not used to being unable to save himself-so weak. For a good amount of time the silence was held; heavy with distaste for the other being. He felt a sharp tug on his hair, letting out a small whine. The man released, proudly showing a single strand of the doctor's hair trapped between his fingertips.

"You see doctor," he began walking a way behind the doctor; escaping his vision, "You never die."

Machinery sounded halting the explanation to the inconvenience of the doctor. When it ended the bonds of the doctor were released. The doctor stood, turning to the man to find he was looking into the scared eyes of himself. The other him was contained in a heavy glass tank. He was extremely confused and even more so afraid. He panicky banged against the glass.

"What have you done?" The doctor yelled looking at the man.

"One of you is not enough," he said simply. The air became cold and harsh once again. The man, although the temperature, seemed to be getting warmer as his cheeks burned a brilliant red. He dropped his cane and stood straight; fire surrounding his feet in a perfect circle. His clothes and body remained unaffected though clearly the fire burnt the ground.

"What are you?"

"I am the phoenix, and I will no longer die. I will have the life of a timelord. I will be forever."

"Run!" cried the other doctor, "Escape!"

_You can't just leave him._ The conscience of the doctor was loud and demanding. Any attempt at fighting his own mindful decision would prove itself to be as deadly a foe as any other. How could you resist the scared eyes of yourself, how could u resist saving yourself-the one being you know you can trust.

All thoughts raced through his mind. His toes curled in his shoes eager to escape. Then it hit him, there were now two timelords. A clone maybe, but a timelord nonetheless. He sprinted forward, reacing for the control panel to save himself. He stopped for a moment to realize the phoenix was gone. Sharp, black ground where he had been that was stained by the fire that had surrounded him. He released the other self, who walked out slowly. They stared at each other, as if neither believed what they saw.

"This is impossible," they both said. The original doctor could not resist the growing temptation, a similar feeling seemed to dawn upon the clone.

"Doctor," he said.

"Doctor," the second repeated. They shook hands and eagerly gave one another a hug. Neither were alone, there were two timelords in exsisitence now. Two timelords that were in a hell of a lot of trouble.


End file.
